We can all sympathise with his lairdship being down to his last castle – can’t we?

We all know the country’s gone to the dogs, but I was shocked to see a new low in the news the other day in the shape of the absolutely disgraceful treatment of renowned Garioch councillor and chieftan of the clan Leslie, Sebastian Arbuthnott-Leslie, until recently the owner of the amusingly named Lickleyhead Castle. Poor chap is down on his luck, having defaulted on a loan, and has now had the ignominy of having his castle repossessed and his family ordered to leave the premises.

Disgraceful! Poor Seb was having a bad enough time of it already what with being suspended by the Conservative Party for failing to pay his council tax.

Well, what kind of world are we living in when a councillor and member of the audit committee isn’t cut a little slack over a piffling £2,500 tax bill? Seb was, of course, making an important political point by refusing to pay – it was a protest against the Scottish banking system (rotters, who are best avoided when there’s space under the old four-poster for hiding the family silver, you know).

“It’s a good job he’s got another family pile to fall back on”

But the Tory party big-wigs told him that by not paying, he had “damaged the party’s reputation”, which must have given retained members like Boris and Gove a good chuckle.

The poor chap is absolutely on his uppers, so it’s good job he’s got another family pile to fall back on. Indeed it was there I got merrily sozzled earlier this year when I gatecrashed his daughter’s wedding to a chap who looked bit like Dennis the Menace’s dog, Gnasher. I vaguely recall through a haze of Laguvulin and Drambuie that the evening also featured what was described to me as a ‘Game Of Thrones’ played in the gentlemen’s lavatory. A great success, though one feared for the integrity of the plumbing.

But now that Lickleyhead has been repossessed, poor Seb is down to his last castle.

Well, I ask you, things have come to a pretty pass when a clan chieftan has to make do with only 700 acres and eight bedrooms, and over such dreary red tape as defaulting on a loan.

The cheek! I mean to say, how’s a chap meant to remember to pay his council tax and loan repayments when he’s got two castles, on the go? I’ve only got the one, and the amount of admin involved would fell a lesser man. I need to be at least three bottles of Laphroaig to the good before I can tackle the accounts, and I would guess Seb’s of a similar stripe.

The Flying Pigs

So in a spirit of magnanimity, I decided to help the poor man out, and had a whip-round of my own staff. After 30 minutes with them in the barn, I’ve got quite a decent sum out of them too. Mind you, it was quite a big whip.

Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit whose second touch is a two-footed tackle

You couldn’t not make it up! The stuffed suits what run Scottish football has made themself a total laughing stick with their latest blunderbuss over the shed-loading of the League Cup Semis.

Like every true Dons fan, old Kenny is pickled pink about Aberdeen reaching a semi-final against The Rangers, with the chance to gub them on the way to the final. But also like every true Dons fan as well, old Kenny is sick of being treated like a second-class stamp by the powders-that-be. A noon o’clock kick off in Glasgow on a Sunday?

That is a nightmare for the Red Army – the first train won’t get in to Queen Street until half twelve, so unless the driver can be persuaded to miss out a few of those diddy stops where nobody never gets on or off, we’ll all have to pile down the A9. Good luck if you’re planning a golf outing or hen-do that weekend. There won’t be a coach or a minibus to be had from Montrose to Buckie!

To make matters worser they’ve decided to play the Celtic vs Hearts semi later on the same day at the same ground! So there’ll be legions of Mad Dog-swilling Celtic and lairy Hearts supporters swarming about the same bit of Glasgow as hoards of rowdy, tanked-up The Rangers and well behaved Aberdeen fans!

Mental. Melody says to me, she says “What can possibly go wrong?” So I says to her, I says “The fans could get into fights inside pubs or on the street and it could turn into a riot.” Melody looked at me and says “You don’t really do irony, do you Kenny?” And fair play to the missus, she’s bang on there. She does all the laundry jobs, but I do all the bins and recycling, so it evens out. What was we talking about again?

Still, this weekend football takes a back seat so as old Kenny can watch the golf. I love the Ryder Cup – it still beats me how the Brexiteers want us to go it along and leave all that team spirit behind. Anyway, for the last time, come on Europe!

Cosmo Ludovik Fawkes-Hunt, 13th Earl of Kinmuck was kind enough to suggest a whip-round for Sebastian Arbuthnott-Leslie, chieftan of the clan Leslie – though the staff maybe weren’t so keen…

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